For Glory
by VampireZombieGirl
Summary: [Blades of Glory] Chazz refuses to let anyone outdo him, even hot Russian lesbians. Chazz x Jimmy [ONE SHOT]


All in all, Natasha Batkin and Sonja Malenkov were not impressive skaters. Not to anyone who'd competed in the World Figure Skating Championships, anyway. Chazz Michael Michaels scoffed openly at them, catcalling from time to time, while Jimmy MacElroy watched in silence, a half-smirk on his face at the quality of their routine. He was surprised they had even made it to the London competition, which, while not technically associated with the World Figure Skating Championships, normally only accepted the sort of skater who had the potential to qualify for it.

It was probably the gimmick. They couldn't fully be faulted for using it, but for _stealing_ it... maybe. Chazz and Jimmy had both had choice words for them when they'd heard they were the first female-female figure skating pair in history, anyway. Predictably, they'd chosen a TaTu song.

They saved their double axles — _double_, Chazz actually laughed — for the last moment, landing before spinning once and coming to a joined stop in the center of the ice, hands clasped. There were a few unenthusiastic claps for the girls, but no cheering or very bright commentary, until—

They kissed.

"_Lesbians!_" Chazz hissed as Jimmy stared, eyes wide. The crowd was going wild, whistles coming from men all around the arena. If they weren't the competition, Chazz would have been cheering right along with them. "Damn them!"

"Are— are they allowed to do that?" Jimmy stuttered, hoping that that kiss wouldn't help their scores. If it did, they might actually be... _competition_.

"There aren't any rules against it," Coach said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "But... I don't think they'll count it. Just... just go out there and do what you do, boys."

"Let's demolate those chicks," Chazz said, leading the way out and snarling at Natasha and Sonja as they passed. The girls didn't seem to notice.

"Demolish."

"Whatever."

Of course, their own routine went smoothly. The crowd ooh-ed and ahh-ed, but Jimmy could tell it was a little less loudly than usual. Except Hector, of course. They seemed distracted, still lost in the haze that had been left over them. The word rang through his ears: _lesbians_.

"We've got to do something," Chazz said when he caught his hands, skating just behind him.

"What can we do?" Jimmy asked, despondent.

"We could do the Iron Lotus," Chazz suggested.

"No." Jimmy paused for a moment as he was lifted into the air, arms spread outward like wings. "No, we have to save that for the big leagues."

"You're right." Chazz lowered him back down to the ice, and as they separated one last time, he whispered, "I've got an idea."

Jimmy nodded, skating in the other direction. He'd learned to trust Chazz — well, most of the time, anyway. He knew not to trust him when he told him to touch or smell something suspicious-looking. On the ice, though, he trusted him.

When he approached the center of the ice again, he noticed Chazz deviating from the path they'd practiced, stopping with his legs spread. That wasn't right — he was supposed to catch him, not stop. It was almost too late when Jimmy realized Chazz wasn't even facing the right way, and he barely had time to duck down and glide between his partner's legs, springing up afterward and plastering a smile on his face. He was growing somewhat used to Chazz's improvisations.

"_That_ was your plan?" Jimmy whispered angrily as the crowd cheered.

"No, this is." Without any further warning, Chazz spun him around, putting his hands on his waist and pulling him forward.

He didn't expect the kiss at all.

Only Jimmy's years of learning to be _zen_ on the ice kept him from flailing about madly. Still, his hands went up to the sides of his head, fingers spread, and he barely resisted calling "I need an adult!" when he felt Chazz's tongue push into his mouth. Only after his initial moment of shock did he realize the crowd was _roaring_. It didn't sound quite like the roars Natasha and Sonja had gotten, but he figured it was good, anyway, even if Chazz was holding on to him for an obnoxiously long time. Jimmy cringed a little when he realized he couldn't tell fi the drool running down his chin was his own or not.

He shook himself when Chazz pulled away, heading off the ice, and followed. Coach was shaking his head slowly.

"They didn't count the girls' kiss, guys. You didn't need to do that."

"Are you kidding?" Chazz argued, pointing out at the audience. There were bras being tossed all over the ice, and a pair of panties landed on Jimmy's head, which he batted off with disgust. "They loved that!"

"You could have warned me," Jimmy said, not sounding as angry as he'd hoped.

"No time," Chazz countered. "And we're going to need to practice that. Your technique did _not_ match your skating skills, dude. I thought you and Katie were past the frozen-lip stage."

"We are! But she's Katie, and you're... _you_!"

Chazz silenced him with a point of his finger. "I'm Chazz Michael Michaels, and _you_ need practice, starting tonight."

Coach sighed. "I can't help you there, boys." With that, he turned and left.

Chazz followed him, calling over his shoulder, "Eight. Our room. Be there."

Jimmy stood there for a minute more. If only Katie used that much tongue.

Well, there was a reason she wasn't his partner.

...In skating. Right. In skating.

Only a few hours until eight...


End file.
